


Butterfly Effect

by IcyPanther



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Lance (Voltron) Whump, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) is a Good Friend, muscle spasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 23:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30080226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: Lance has seen lots of terrifying creatures up in space. He never thought he’d be adding a butterfly to that list. Yet it’s made it to the top as its venom makes his muscles spasm, touch makes it worse, and the only thing he can do is lie on the jungle floor with Shiro at his side and wait for it to be over.
Relationships: Lance & Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 186





	Butterfly Effect

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** season one or two  
>  **Warning notes:** none

“Are we there yet?” 

Lance pitched the question in the whiniest tone possible and was rewarded by Shiro’s chuckle, who, unlike some people (cough, Keith), were capable of understanding it wasn’t a rhetorical question. 

“Five more minutes,” Shiro responded, even though like Lance he too had no idea how much longer they’d be traipsing around this jungle looking for some hidden temple. And as excited as Lance had been to be partnered with Shiro some of that enthusiasm had worn off in the nearly four hours they’d been out here with swarms of bugs and heat and humidity that while their armor did insulate against, the condensation made wearing the helmets useless, and so it was either constantly rub to clear vision or wave a hand to fight off bugs.

Lance was alternating between the two but for the moment had his helmet off as he was busy polishing off a water pouch. Even lukewarm it felt like heaven down his throat. 

“We’ll take a break in five minutes regardless,” Shiro said, turning to look at Lance over his shoulder. “I think—”

He broke off with a choked laugh. “Lance,” he got out, “don’t, don’t move.”

Lance immediately froze, although considering Shiro seemed amused it probably wasn’t dangerous…

Right?

“What?” Lance asked, feeling his cheeks color unrelated to the heat.

Had he done something stupid in front of Shiro? 

Shiro held up a finger and slowly, slowly reached for his holster, large grin still taking up his face. 

He emerged with his phone.

“Um, Shi—?”

“Shh!” Shiro shushed him. “Don’t scare it. I want to take a picture, hang on.”

Scare it?

What…

What exactly was on him?

And then he felt it.

A little prickle on his forehead that wasn’t sweat and it was _moving._

Something was on his face.

He could feel it making its way down his nose and he crossed his eyes, trying to see, making out a blurry orange blob. 

“That’s great,” Shiro chuckled. “Here, look.”

He held his phone up and Lance’s eyes widened before he let out a stifled laugh so he didn’t shake his head too much.

There was a butterfly on his nose. 

Shiro had taken a few pictures, the first one of the butterfly perched directly atop of Lance’s head and then as it made its way down his face and the last one of Lance looking down at the butterfly.

Okay.

That was pretty cute.

And maybe, Lance grinned, Allura would think it was cute too. 

“One more,” Shiro said, turning the camera back around. “Smile.”

Lance beamed.

And then he yelped as there was a sharp pinch on his nose and the butterfly took off with a flutter of wings as Lance’s hands flew to his face.

“Lance!” Shiro was at his side within a few steps. 

“I think it bit me,” Lance said, voice muffled by his hands. 

“Let me see,” Shiro said gently and Lance felt his cheeks darken beneath his hands because was he really making this big of a deal out of a bug bite? In front of _Shiro?_ He was supposed to be a _Paladin,_ strong and tough and Paladins didn’t cry over bug bites.

Even if this one still really hurt.

“It’s fine,” he lowered his hands. “See?”

Shiro hummed and nodded, stepping back. “All right. I think that might be the universe’s way of telling us now’s a good time for a break though, huh?”

“Sounds good,” Lance agreed. 

His legs were starting to ache and even a few minutes would be nice to sit down. Although, as he lowered himself to a raised tree root, he wondered if he would be able to get back up again.

“Coran,” Shiro raised a hand to his helmet as he settled down atop his own tree root. “Any sighting from the other teams?”

Lance tipped his head back, listening to the one-sided conversation and staring up at the endless canopy of green leaves and vines above them. 

His left leg twinged and Lance absentmindedly bent over to rub at it.

“Okay,” Shiro said and he gave Lance a small shake of his head, that no, no one else had had any luck. “We’ll finish this mile stretch and then turn around. Maybe we can move the castle further in so we can scout out a new area tomorrow. I think—”

Lance sucked in his breath as the twinge turned into a full on cramp and he hunched over, trying not to whimper.

Oh _Dios,_ that _hurt._

“—old on a second, Coran,” he heard Shiro say. “Lance? Are you all right?”

Lance meant to say yes.

What emerged was a sort of high pitched whine and he felt tears sting his eyes at both the pain and embarrassment.

And then Shiro was _there,_ kneeling at Lance’s side and firm but gentle hands gently tugging Lance’s away to look at a non-existent wound.

“Cr-cramp,” Lance struggled to say around the sudden pain.

“Ouch,” Shiro said sympathetically. “Probably all that walking and maybe some dehydration, huh? Let’s take off this armor and get you a water pouch—”

Lance cut Shiro off with a groan as a spasm ran up his side and he hurriedly pressed his hands to it, digging his fingers in to try to ease it away.

It hurt more.

This couldn’t just be from walking and Lance knew he’d been hydrating. 

A stabbing pain shot through his other leg and that time he couldn’t stop the sharp cry as his leg involuntarily moved and bumped into the log.

It felt like he’d just lit it on fire. 

He was faintly aware Shiro was talking but he couldn’t seem to hear the words, everything hidden behind the roaring of his pulse and the rising panic that _something was wrong_ and he didn’t know what it was. 

He did feel Shiro’s hands though landing on his shoulders and he choked on another scream as his entire back spasmed in response and he twisted in Shiro’s grip and above the pain there was the sickening sensation of falling as he wrenched himself right off the log.

He didn’t hit the ground though as instead Shiro caught him around his back and Lance honestly wasn’t sure which would have been worse. Shiro though was quickly lowering him onto his back and Lance immediately curled up although that didn’t seem to help either as his stomach was cramping now and it was in his thighs, his arms, _everywhere._

Oh _Dios._

_Dios Dios Dios._

Tears were streaming down his cheeks from scrunched eyes and Lance couldn’t even be embarrassed about the fact he was crying in front of his hero because he was in so much _pain._

And…

And he couldn’t _breathe._

His heart leapt into this throat.

He couldn’t breathe.

His lungs were seizing, his chest was compressing, he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t— 

“—ance, buddy,” Shiro’s voice cut through the din. “Small breaths, okay? Take small breaths for m—”

Lance tried.

They hurt too.

He ended up panting around his sobs as Shiro continued to murmur at him to breathe, that was it, nice and small, good job buddy.

“Lance, can you hear me?” Shiro asked, coming in clearer than before and Lance choked out a, “Yes,” too afraid to move hs head.

“I’ve got some not so great news,” Shiro said. “But, the most important thing, is you’re going to be okay, all right?” Shiro took a breath. “I talked to Coran and he ran through a database. That butterfly from earlier? It’s…” Shiro swallowed. “Its sting is venomous.”

Not a bite then.

Did it really matter?

Another spasm rippled through Lance and he gagged as bile tickled his tongue that time, curling up even more, hands pressing to his stomach.

“Lance, hey,” and Shiro’s hand landed feather light atop his hand. “Buddy, don’t do that. Touch makes the symptoms worse.”

Lance froze mid-spasm.

What?

“The butterfly’s venom causes an effect of muscle spasms and contractions,” Shiro continued, voice soft. “And… it’ll take… it’ll take a few hours to pass.”

Lance could read between the lines.

Hours of painful muscle spasms. Movement made it worse.

Which meant…

He’d be lying here, on the jungle floor, in pain, for the next several hours and there was no relief in sight. 

“I’m so sorry, buddy,” Shiro murmured. 

“‘s…” Lance’s voice was high and tight, “‘s okay.”

It really wasn’t, but it’s not like they could do anything.

“Coran said it might help to remove your armor,” Shiro said softly, “to make you more comfortable.”

He sniffled, winced, and tried to even out his expression, to nod to show he understood. That… that he wasn’t as weak and pathetic as he probably looked right now.

Taken down by a butterfly.

It was as embarrassing as it sounded. 

But even that tiny movement made his back clench and then his stomach and legs and he whimpered instead, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt tear-stained cheeks flame anew.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said again, thumb very lightly brushing over Lance’s hand and while that made a shiver go through him the comfort meant more than the pain. “I know this is going to hurt. And I just want you to know… that there’s no shame in crying. Or needing help. Or, or anything. I’m here to help you, Lance. Not… not make you feel worse.”

Lance’s throat felt tight as somehow, with just that…

Shiro made him feel not quite so pathetic. 

More tears snuck out from closed eyes, but these ones…

These ones he didn’t try to blink back. 

“Come on,” Shiro’s thumb brushed one more time over Lance’s hand, “let’s get that armor off, okay?”

“Kay,” Lance whispered.

Shiro moved slowly as he felt out the latch for each piece and eased them away, starting from Lance’s boots and working his way up.

Even those light touches sent ripples of pain that were followed by harsh cramping and before Shiro had even finished taking off his right leg armor Lance had his legs drawn up, hands gripping at his thigh and he knew he wasn’t helping, he knew he was making it worse, but his leg felt like it was on _fire_ and he had to do _something_

“Lance,” Shiro’s voice was as gentle as his hands as he tugged at where Lance had dug his fingers into his underarmour. “I know it hurts, buddy, I know. But…” he pulled Lance’s hands free, “I need you to keep your body as relaxed as possible. Small breaths, focus on those.”

“‘m sorry,” Lance choked out.

“No, no,” Shiro kindly chided. “Nothing to apologize for. You’re doing great, Lance.”

Lance didn’t bother that with an attempted response.

No he wasn’t.

He still tried, focusing on the small breaths that didn’t make his chest expand and make the spasms even worse.

Shiro worked off all of his leg armor, undid his belt, and was in the process of pulling away his chest plate when Lance’s stomach cramped more painfully than it had yet.

“Sh-Shiro,” he got out.

He was going to...

Shiro somehow had him sitting up and draped over his arm in a blink as Lance vomited, the action only making his stomach cramp more and he was choking and sobbing uncontrollably as he expelled bile and trail mix and water. 

And even though his stomach eventually ran out of contents his eyes did not seem so ready to run out of tears.

Lance could feel them streaming down his cheeks as he gasped and trembled and his stomach was still cramping and his legs were twisting and his back was screaming and _Dios_ he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this he _couldn’t do this._

“—ance, breathe, buddy, breathe,” Shiro filtered in. “I know,” his voice cracked. “I know it hurts. Just… just keep breathing, all right?”

That seemed to be the only thing Lance was capable of and even that wasn’t going so well as he couldn’t seem to catch his breath and his mouth tasted awful and everything hurt and he couldn’t focus he couldn’t—

“Lance,” Shiro cut back in through the static. “ _Breathe.”_

Lance did his best.

He tried not to move as Shiro lowered him back to the ground, as well-meaning but painful hands finished removing his armor, but Lance would admit without the chestplate especially pressing down he could breathe a little bit better and some of the pain wasn’t as sharp there.

It still hurt though.

A lot.

And he couldn’t hold in the whimper as Shiro gently began to shift his limbs — hands gathered back at his stomach, knees drawn up — so he was lying on his back with his limbs all straight at his sides. 

He wasn’t lying still though.

His body seemed to have a mind of its own as his legs bumped up and down and he could feel his toes curling back and his hands spasming as his stomach twisted and it felt like someone had set fire to every single one of his limbs.

Lance bit his lip to keep the whimper inside, trying desperately to not move.

“Lance,” Shiro’s hand ever so lightly carded through his hair and that at least didn’t hurt, didn’t make his head ache. “Don’t fight it. That’ll only make it worse. Relax.”

He couldn’t.

He felt like his entire body had been wound up into a giant knot and every breath made it grow tighter and he let out a breathy sob of frustration and pain that had no other outlet.

“How about,” Shiro stroked his hair again, “I tell you a story? Focus on… on something other than this.”

A story?

From Shiro?

Lance’s eyes stung for a different reason. “Pl-please,” he whispered.

Shiro continued to stroke his hair as he told Lance about the time he’d gotten stuck in the anti-gravity room at the Garrison and then the cooling fan and it had involved a whole group of administration to rescue him, of the time his best friend, Matt (Pidge’s brother) had pranked him with a heartbeat sound machine and Shiro had had to sleep with the light on for almost a week, and other stories about his time at the Garrison, and while laughing hurt (everything hurt) Lance didn’t mind it so much.

The stories were interspersed with gentle murmurs when a particularly horrible cramp assaulted him, of Shiro helping him to drink water — “ _gotta keep you hydrated, buddy,”_ and to Lance’s horror several more times of vomiting even though after the third one it was just dry heaving and that was somehow more painful, while Shiro continued to stroke his hair, the one place that touch didn’t hurt, and remind him to breathe and to relax. 

Even with his eyes mostly closed Lance could sense the time passing as the hum of insects grew quieter, as while still humid it was becoming slightly cooler, and even though the jungle hadn’t been overbright it was definitely darker now. And he slowly became aware that his body didn’t feel as tense and the unwanted but familiar companion of pain was fading.

Was it...

Over?

He let out a larger breath as his body felt like one giant wet noodle and he couldn’t even summon up the energy to twitch a finger, bracing himself for a sharp twinge, for the spasm.

No pain.

Nothing.

All he felt was…

Was _tired._

Shiro must have seen it too as one of his hands gravitated to pick up Lance’s, lying limp, and gently squeezed it. “You did it, buddy. I’m so proud of you.”

Lance managed an exhausted, weary smile.

“Let’s head back now, huh?” Shiro squeezed his hand again. “I bet a nice hot bath would feel wonderful.”

Lance hummed his agreement to that.

But…

He felt his cheeks heat for the first time in hours.

“I…” his voice was a rasp. “I don’t think I can… I can move.”

“As if I was going to let you walk after that,” Shiro chided gently. “You’re getting a lift, buddy.”

Lance’s eyes widened.

What?

They were over four hours into the jungle and it was dark and—

“Breathe, Lance,” Shiro squeezed his hand. “I checked in with Coran. He’s meeting us with a shuttle about a half mile from here in a clearing and I’m carrying you there. No arguments.”

Lance was too tired to do so even if he’d wanted to and Shiro had told him not to feel ashamed about needing help, so…

So the only thing to do was to be grateful.

Shiro helped him to sit up — and without the support he’d have tipped right back over but more than that the action didn’t send any spasms through him but just a low, dull ache of exhaustion and overused muscles — and then put his armor back on with an apology that Lance waved away as it obviously made more sense and would be easier if he was wearing it for travel — and then he was being hoisted onto Shiro’s back, Shiro leaning forward slightly as Lance didn't even have the strength to hold on, with his arms hooked securely under Lance’s knees.

“Ready?” he asked. 

Lance gave a small nod. “Yes. And, and Shiro?” he asked as Shiro began to walk.

“Hm?”

“ _Gracias,”_ he whispered. 

“Happy to help, buddy,” Shiro squeezed his leg. 

And for as simple as those words were…

They said so much more. 

And Lance realized that after this afternoon Shiro was no longer just his hero and his leader.

He was his friend.

And that was a butterfly effect he could get behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic request of Lance + muscle spasms with protective!Shiro :) If you enjoyed the fic it would mean a lot to hear from you in the comments ♥ Detailed comments are my favorite, but even a short and sweet thank you or note means a lot. Thank you :)


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